


Sweet Aggravations

by LeoOtherLands



Series: Bittersweet Symphony [2]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Because I'm still better with plot than porn - deal, Canon Divergence, Caring, Jealousy, Light Bondage, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rare Pairings, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 16:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoOtherLands/pseuds/LeoOtherLands
Summary: While the Phantom Troupe wait to finish their heist at the Auction in York New, Hisoka asks Feitan to have a little fun with him. He neglects to mention to Feitan he also invited Sylva Zoldyck.





	Sweet Aggravations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SeparationBoundary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeparationBoundary/gifts).



> This little piece is for the beautiful [SeparationBoundary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeparationBoundary) because their lovely story [The Bet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13182927) inspired me to write this. And because their work is fabulous and, not only gives me the smut I require, but usually makes me laugh my head off in all the right ways. I hope you like this as much as I love your work!
> 
> Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life  
> Trying to make ends meet, you're a slave to the money then you die.  
> I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down  
> You know the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet, yeah.  
> No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change,  
> but I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold.  
> But I'm a million different people from one day to the next  
> I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...
> 
> Well I never pray,  
> But tonight I'm on my knees, yeah.  
> I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah.  
> I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now.  
> But the airwaves are clean and there's nobody singing to me now.  
> No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change,  
> But I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold.  
> And I'm a million different people from one day to the next  
> I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...
> 
> Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life.  
> Trying to make ends meet, trying to find some money then you die.  
> I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down  
> You know the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet, yeah.  
> No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change...
> 
> It just sex and violence melody and silence  
> It just sex and violence melody and silence...
> 
> [Bitter Sweet Symphony - The Verve](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1lyu1KKwC74)

The clown was aggravating. I could feel his eyes on me, and almost see the whole of his evil grin out the corner of my eye from where I sat cross legged on the dirty floor. Dust matted the cuffs and butt of my long, black coat and girt crunched and scrapped under the cards Phinks and I spread out between us. Chrollo was gone. He’d left some hours before, and we Spiders lurked in the abandoned hulk we’d taken as our hideout in York New, trying to amuse ourselves, while we waited for him to come back.

This would have been easier if it weren’t for the clown. He lazed in a languid recline, against a wall, almost at my back. Head and shoulders thrown back to rest on the wall, one long leg stretched out, the other cocked up to support the arm he draped over it. Fingers moving lazily, eyes half slitted, lips quirked in that smirk that meant no good.

The crawl of those gold eyes roving my petite form set my skin alight with squirming heat, even below the layered, baggy fabric I wore. I made effort to ignore it, but it disturbed my normal placidity, and skewed my concentration.

“I won again,” Phinks said, his face scrunching, as he frowned down at the cards. “What’s wrong, Fei? You never lose this much.”

“Not in mood for cards,” I returned, throwing down the squares of cardboard remaining in my hand, ruefully calculating just how many Jenny I now owed my blond companion. All while observing the magician’s aggravating, sly smile. He knew what he was making me feel and enjoyed my discomfiture.

“I pay later,” I said, standing. “After Auction.”

“Okay,” Phinks assented with a gloomy attitude, watching me attempt to brush the embedded debris from my coat. “What are you going to do, Fei?”

“I go walk. Stuffy in here.” Burying my white hands deep in my pockets, I paced away, intentionally not looking at the clown, keeping my eyes fixed on the door, feeling his gaze following me. Words in my native language rolling in my mind.

_Aggravating clown bastard._

With an aggrieved grunt, I pushed outside. It’d gotten dark in Chrollo’s absence, the air warm, whispery, and dry. It fluttered about my hair, moving little wisps of the inky substance. Overhead, the stars were silver pin-pricks in a velvet overlay. I lingered, taking them in a moment.

“Umm.” Making the sound, I dropped my head, and attempted to shrug off the feeling of Hisoka’s eyes on my skin. Only to have the man’s hands fall on my shoulders.

“Hello, Feitan,” he cooed in my ear.

Twisting my head to look up at him, I glowered as I said: “What you want?”

“Oh,” he practically purred, evil smirk pulling his lips and lightening his eyes to a high liquid color, hand snaking down my torso to rub at my crotch, “the usual. I thought we could have a little fun.”

“No,” I snapped, twitching his hand away, and walking forward. “Still have bruises from last time.”

Hisoka pursued, shameless and amused. “But your pale skin looks so lovely marked with my fingerprints.”

“No like,” I spat, flashing him a quick look from above my bandana, and behind my hair. Whatever relief I’d found in the night was disrupted by the magician’s irritating presence.

“Come now, Feitan,” the clown’s tone had turned coaxing and placating, “you’re just being difficult. What if I promise not to tie you up this time?”

“No.” The road beneath our feet was littered with chunks of broken cement and cracks, which twisted and twined together. My teeth had snapped shut over the short word, and I hunched my shoulders. “Only do when you want do. Not fair. What about when I want do?”

Hisoka tittered. “So troublesome. What if I promise to kiss you the way you like?”

I stopped, final step _scriching_ in the loose debris. Hisoka was behind me a foot or two. I turned to face him.

“What you want?” I repeated, eyes narrowing at him. Because he must want something. The clown only played nice when he was after something.

He smiled at me, running his tongue over his lips. “I want you, of course, Feitan. Don’t you trust me?”

“Only fool trust you, clown. I no fool.”

“No,” Hisoka rumbled, “you’re not.” He threw up his hands, playfully. “If you’re not interested…”

I gaged him, mentally weighing the understanding I was missing something against the odds of my getting something I wanted. I tilted my head up to better meet his eyes.

“You kiss me?”

“Yes,” he purred.

“No ropes? No tie?”

“Not for you, Fei.”

I studied him, pondering what this enigmatic statement meant. Eyes narrowing again, I took a warning hand from a pocket.

“You no trick, no lie.”

The magician’s smirk became insufferable. Utterly intolerable. He held his hands out to me. “I’m quite honest, Fei. I just want to have a little fun.”

I nodded, feeling a twinge of unease. Very much doubting my companion’s capacity for honesty, even when he tried.

“Okay.”

“Excellent,” Hisoka cooed. “Come along, Feitan. I’ve rented us a delightful hotel room.”

He sauntered off, long legged stride over-quick for my short frame. Internally, I cursed him, as I jogged to follow.

“How you know I agree?” I demanded, following him out of the desolate and ramshackle part of York New, where the hideout squatted, and into the better endowed portions of the city, where glass and chrome skyscrapers reared up to hack at the stars with their jagged edges.

“Umm,” he made the amused sound, eyeing me with glittering, golden orbs. “I had a feeling.”

He said nothing more until he escorted me into a clean, gleaming building. We stood out in our odd attire, crossing the lobby to the bronze elevator, but no one dared bother us. Hisoka brought me to the top floor, to a darkened room, like a suite, where the lights of York New twinkled below us in an undulating sea, and the dim stars struggled to glow above it all.

The clown didn’t bother to turn on any lights in the apartment, only shut the door and spread his arms wide.

“What do you think?”

“It good,” I admitted, thinking the soft carpet would be nice under my back. Though the large bed, big enough for the whole Troupe to shag on, situated dead center in the glass room, would be even better.

“We fuck in front of all windows, but no one see us here.”

“Oh, but seeing is the whole point,” the pernicious creature crooned in my ear, his hands on my shoulders again, aiming me to look toward the gleaming bar.

I snarled. “What _he_ do here?”

Sylva Zoldyck had his ass propped up on the metal and crystal construction, slightly weathered face shut and hard to read, and a drink in his hand. The man’s long, full hair tumbled over his shoulders and down his back, and his casual attitude gave the impression he’d been there for some time.

I ground my teeth at the notion I hadn’t been able to sense his _Nen_. Fucking assassin bastard.

“Oh, Sylva had some business in York New,” Hisoka replied to my inquiry.

“What kind business?” I questioned, jerking away from the clown’s hands, and glaring up at him, thinking of just how long Chrollo had been away.

“Nothing to be concerned about, Fei.” He held his hands out to me again to reassure me, and possibly keep me from killing them both. “Sylva is just here to have a little fun with us. The last time he, Illumi, and I were together, Sylva mentioned how he’d been wanting to have a taste of you. And I wanted to watch.”

“No.” Waves of heat rolled off me. My gray eyes might as well have been ash. “Bastard clown. You say no trick. No want fuck Zoldyck.”

“Come now, Feitan,” the magician’s tone had turned all cajoling. He sashayed to my side and set his hands on my shoulders, yet again, as he bent to press his cheek to mine. “Everything I said was in prefect honesty.”

“Said wanted me,” I returned, twisting my face away. “Nothing ‘bout Zoldyck trash.”

“Trash.” Sylva had been silent until then. At the word, he swirled what was left of his drink and set it aside, uncrossing his long legs and standing straight. He was a large man. Like Hisoka. “I thought you said you wouldn’t bring him here unless he agreed, Morou.” The blond man drifted to the bed, surprisingly light-footed for his size. Typical assassin. “This doesn’t look like he agreed.”

“Nonsense.” Hisoka’s voice was tart, but playful. Like his smirking face. “We have an arrangement, don’t we, Feitan? You’ll still get what I promised, of course.”

Speaking the last words, the clown guided me over to the bed, more of a pressing, propelling motion than any form of gentleness. I glowered between him and the Zoldyck, wondering how I’d allowed myself to get into this situation. Anything to do with the clown was trouble.

Aggravating.

He was so aggravating, but I just kept coming back. A fool after all.

My words dropped into my native language, gray eyes turned up to the clown. _You are such a bastard._

“Yes, probably,” he agreed, with a shrug. He’d heard the words so much, he likely knew the gist of them from repetition. His next words were jubilant. “I knew you would agree, Feitan.”

“Fuck me,” I swore.

“Not this time,” Hisoka said, releasing me to start taking off his clothes.

I let my eyes drift to the Zoldyck. Taking in what it was I quite literally needed to _do_ to get what I wanted. I could not hide the distaste on my face, despite my bandana.

“Why you want fuck?” I demanded of him.

“Oh,” Hisoka cooed, slipping his pants off, “Sylva’s a bit of a connoisseur. He was rather jealous I’d had you when he couldn’t.”

“It’s not every day I get to fuck a man I worry could kill me,” the Zoldyck added, eyeing Hisoka darkly, an expression which said he didn’t like having his answers overridden by the clown.

“What ‘bout wife?” I queried, darkly.

“She has her own interests.” The answer was offhand. Then the blond man’s attention returned entirely to me. “You’re not going to join him?”

Join the magician in removing my clothes. The implication was unmistakable. Grumbling, I started undressing, letting sheathes of black fabric hit the floor, while Hisoka only chuckled and hummed to himself in enjoyment. The fucking clown bastard.

When I stood in nothing but my bandana, Hisoka had already shed every stitch he had worn. I let my eyes narrow at him, taking in the sight of long, toned everything. Another problem with the clown was he really _did_ make a nice sight to look at.

“The scarf too.”

The words recalled my attention to the tall man who was Illumi’s father and, obviously, didn’t mind indulging in the clown with his oldest son. “No,” I spat. “Not for you, Zoldyck!”

“Oh,” the man said, folding his arms over his chest.

“Try take off. You see what happen!”

“Come along, Feitan,” Hisoka took a step toward me, voice gone coaxing.

“You no start clown!” I said, pointing at him. “You no say want share!”

“It’s fine,” Sylva said, voice close behind me, having moved without a brush of _Nen_ or whisper of footstep. His hand centered on my shoulder blades, pressing me toward the bed.

I went, climbing unto the high piece of furniture and crawling a way over the bedding before Sylva’s large hand urged me down unto my stomach on the satiny sheets. It was some comfort Hisoka came with me, sprawling on his back some way off on the expanse of bed, to grin at me upside down. It was less reassuring to have Zoldyck behind me, where I couldn’t see him properly, arranging me how he wanted me, and prodding at my backside.

I tossed stormy, gray eyes over my shoulder to see what the assassin was doing, only to start when something warm and wet skimmed over my entrance. Zoldyck, it seemed, liked to use his tongue.

Hisoka chuckled at my monetary discomfiture. “Oh, Feitan, you’re so lovely when you’re off balance.”

I snarled words at him he probably half understood, gripping the sheets in my small hands. It was annoying the sensation coiling up my spine was not unpleasant. It was aggravating how the clown smirked at me, playing his tongue over his lips. The irritation all the greater as I hadn’t had anyone else, beside the clown, since the insufferable bastard had first sashayed across my path and purred in my ear, we could have some fun. I could have had Chrollo or Phinks or even Pakunoda. But, instead, I was left with Zoldyck.

The magician seemed to grasp my mood, laughing a little. His hand swirled around his stomach, then drifted between his legs. I narrowed my eyes at him. The picture of him getting himself off to the sight of me with Zoldyck’s face in my ass and his hand on my back, sending odd, squirming jumps through my length. The bastard was nothing if not seductive and knew how to play it up.

Tantalizing sight or not, I still twisted and glared over my shoulder when Sylva’s tongue was removed and replaced firmly with cock. The blond moved forward, not bothering with prep, but not going quickly either. Pressing in a fraction at a time and allowing me to stretch around him. I didn’t make a sound, but gripped the sheets tighter in my fists, keeping my clouded, gray eyes locked on the clown.

Irritated.

Thoroughly irked the discomfort swelling in my backend was mixed with a heart-in-throat anticipation at the assassin’s size. He was larger than Hisoka, which said much for his proportions.

By the time the man above me sheathed himself all the way, the clown had his own back arching in pleasure, his eyes glittering at me.

“Having fun, Feitan?” he queried.

I opened my mouth to splash him with more half-comprehensible words of outrage, but Sylva started moving, and I shut it again, going back to silence. Eyes dropping to half mast, watching the clown and feeling the Zoldyck. I didn’t even protest when the man splaying me out on the bed hooked an arm under me to pull me up onto my knees in doggy position, one hand on my hip, the other grasping my cock.

Despite their girth, the assassin’s fingers were nimble and dexterous and preformed tricks, which left me dripping and hard against my best efforts to remain indifferent. I was panting and shaking long before my orgasm hit, making me spasm and go limp in the Zoldyck’s hold. He had to support me to keep me form pitching face first into the bedding, but this didn’t seem to bother the infernal man. He only kept on with his work, before and behind, raising me to thrashing heights of over stimulation and annoyance.

I was hissing and spitting behind my bandana, _Nen_ flaring warning, by the time Sylva reached his climax with a hot rush, and Hisoka heaved a contented sigh under his own hand, free fingers trailing down his chest, as he watched me with glinting, gold eyes.

I glared at him, as the Zoldyck slowly pulled out and eased me down unto a clean expanse of slippery-smooth sheets, but the clown only laughed and cooed at me.

“Oh, Feitan, you’re so lovely when you’re murderous.”

Half-drunk, slurred words came out of my mouth to riddle the bastard, but they were so low, Sylva’s overrode them.

“I expected more of a reaction from the feel of his _Nen_.”

“Feitan’s the ambient type,” Hisoka said, rolling over, eyes ashine with a hungry light. “But I’m not,” he added, stretching out on his back, sliding himself under Sylva, and raising his arms above his head, while his lips quirked in a lecherous smirk. Face all open, delighted lust.

The Zoldyck seemed neither impressed or unimpressed. “Still want what we talked about, Morou?”

“Oh yes,” Hisoka affirmed, sparing an eye for me where I lay on my side, and observed with distaste.

The large, weathered assassin reached under a drift of pillows to retrieve a spool of thick rope he played through his fingers and proceeded to wrap around the clown’s arms from wrist to elbow.

I raised my head, eyes narrowing at the spectacle, fatigue and bonelessness outdone by the unexpected image of the clown taking ropes with delight. He was fond of tying _me_ up, but I had never envisioned his liking of the same treatment aimed at him, in turn.

“Amused, Feitan,” he murmured, eyes sliding to me fully. “I thought you might be.”

 _You are such a bastard._ The words lashed out in my native tongue, and Hisoka laughed a little, then moaned as Zoldyck put a hand on his throat and another between his legs.

“Play time,” the clown cooed.

Hisoka’s _play_ was never particularly light. Sylva rode him into the mattress, front and back, leaving bruises on _that_ toned skin, while Hisoka vocalized his enjoyment with volume to alert the whole hotel floor to what activity he was engaged in. I watched with a mixture of arousal edging between my legs and burning displeasure roiling off me in waves of heat.

While the magician paid my fiery _Nen_ no heed at all, it was some compensation the Zoldyck kept glancing my way to see if I intended to kill him.

I remained laying as I was through the show, plans of my own forming in the back of my mind. When the head of Zoldyck clan finished entirely wrecking the clown, and cut the ropes away, I locked him in my gray stare, raising to my knees.

“You leave now,” I spat.

The man inclined his head to me, left the bed, and pulled his pants about his hips. He said nothing and made no remark at leaving in the tumbled state he was in. Only collected his few belongings and left, clicking the door shut behind him.

“My Feitan,” Hisoka chuckled when the other man was gone. “Always the jealous one.”

I turned my thunderhead eyes on the aggravating bastard. “And you always cheat.”

Another dry chuckle, as the man laid a hand over his chest in relaxation. “Come along, Feitan. Sylva isn’t so bad, is he?”

I knew he meant at fucking, and I snarled at him. “Stupid clown! Want you!”

He closed his eyes, one corner of his lips quirking up, slyly. “Umm, as you can see, I’m a bit worn out, just now.”

“Good,” I replied, padding my way over to him. “Make easier. You no tie up this time.”

“What are you planning, Feitan?” the man asked, opening his eyes, gold revolving like molten metal.

I ignored him, pulling my bandana down, and putting my mouth over his already half hardening member. A pleased sound escaped him, and the clown attempted to entangle a hand in my inky hair to pull me further down, but I swatted it away, chocking on too much in my mouth.

“No do,” I grunted, lifting up to glare at him.

“We’ve done it before,” he returned, but I shook my head.

“No like!”

“Yet, it’s what you’re doing.”

 _Fucking clown bastard!_ I hurled at him, unable to keep to a language he knew. Then I went back to work, playing my mouth over his length, but not taking it in my mouth again, thinking Hisoka always had a hard time differentiating between what I _liked_ and what I allowed because _he_ liked it.

A moment, and I was satisfied with my work. Wiping my mouth, I straddled the large, long form with my own petite, dark one, and fitted him to my already stretched entrance. After the Zoldyck, it was easy to drop down on him without thought of discomfort, but the feel of me made him throw his head back, grabbing my hips.

“Oh Feitan!”

I slapped his hands away. “No touch!”

Obedient for once, the annoying man only smirked. “Whatever you like.”

I moved and he followed, quite pleased to do nothing but make sounds. I was not appeased, however.

“Like him better than me?” I demanded.

“Feitan, honestly,” the clown crooned.

Huffing a sound of irked fury, I reached back and inserted a few fingers into him in the way he liked. “Answer question.”

My victim twisted under me. “At this moment, Feitan, I like you best.”

“Not good ‘nough!” I wriggled in another couple of fingers, bumping up against that spot in him, even as I rocked him from above.

“Ah!” The clown jerked, making the gasping sound and trying to grasp my hips again, even as I whacked his hands away. “My Fei!”

Seeing him close to finish, I wrapped my free hand around my cock, and rode out both our orgasms. Hisoka’s eyes were half-lidded when I stopped moving, clenched around him.

“There isn’t anyone else like you, Feitan.”

“Illumi?” I questioned.

Hisoka rolled those gold eyes. “Do you want me to make you angry, Feitan?” He sat up, with me still firmly _on_ his lap, and wrapped his arms around me, kissing my hair. “I promised you something, I believe.”

“’Bout time,” I muttered to Hisoka’s chuckling delight. He hoisted me off his cock and lay back down.

“Come along then, dear Fei.”

Not passing up the invitation, I burrowed into his arms to sniff his neck, catching a whiff of his scent, oh so rare. The man rolled me unto my back and grinned at me.

“You wanted to be kissed, if I remember.”

“Do right!” I demanded, not ready to trust the insufferable trickster.

“But of course,” he murmured, leaning in close to brush his lips over mine. My eyes slipped shut as the clown kissed my neck and shoulders and lips. Not pressing, not forceful, just soft and thoughtful.

It always amazed me. The clown’s capacity for tenderness. He could tie me up and leave me aching for days, but he could turn and grace me with affection in the next instant. He was capricious and untrustworthy, and I knew better than to want anything from him. Yet, I kept finding myself right back for more.

Hisoka kissed me, as I _liked_ , unhurriedly, and for some time, until my breathing turned soft, and sleep weighted me. “There now,” he whispered in my ear. “How was that, Fei?”

I opened my eyes as best I could to glower at him. “Better stay with me tonight.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Owe me for Zoldyck cock up ass,” I hissed.

Hisoka chuckled, yet again. He didn’t bother to ask whether I meant my ass or his, knowing I meant both. “Yes, I suppose so. Very well, Feitan, I’ll stay this time.”

“Had better,” I muttered, snaking my arms around his neck, and pressing myself to his bare chest. My face was in his throat at his suprasternal notch, and I felt him draw me close.

He titled my head back, just a moment, to kiss me between the eyes, then cradled me to him again. “Sleep, Feitan. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

For once.

It wasn’t often I got what I wanted. It wasn’t often the clown gave in return for getting. He was a dangerous, infuriating bastard, and I knew there could, ultimately, be no pleasant end to anything having to do with him. But, sometimes, amid all the bitterness, the aggravation was as sweet as the scent coming off his skin. All bubblegum and sugar candy.

**Author's Note:**

> I am an original fiction author and fan fiction writer who literally lives for comments, even if they are nothing but inarticulate vowel screams. And, I make it a point to reply to every comment I receive. Also, feel free to come hang out with me and a couple of other amazing fic writers and readers in a little Facebook group [AO3 Armada](https://www.facebook.com/groups/601270063618951)
> 
> Or even poke around my [author page](https://www.facebook.com/LeoOtherland/)
> 
> We are gearing up for book luanch November 21! Woot, woot!


End file.
